


Just Another Saturday Night

by eleanor_lavish, thepsychicclam



Series: Valiant Effort [11]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a typical Saturday night for the boys. Lij works and goes to a club with Dom, Billy sits in the apartment and writes, Sean goes to Viggo's concert. Takes place the night after "A Party".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Saturday Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Clammy.

Billy held the guitar in his hands, strumming a few chords before stopping and writing it down and starting all over again. The apartment was quiet for once. Elijah and Orlando were at work, and Dom, well, he thinks Dom went to Ian’s to do some work on the books, but you could never be sure with Dom. Billy decided not to take his free Saturday night and this quiet apartment for granted since things like this didn’t happen often. Next week the band started in the studio, and Billy wanted to get out some new songs before then.

There was only one problem to this whole system – everything Billy wrote sucked. Or at least he thought so. The chords weren’t congruent with the lyrics or the lyrics just didn’t fit at all. Who sang about palm trees anyway?

Balling up the piece of paper, Billy picked up his guitar and decided just to play. They had plenty of songs to begin with; there was no rush on writing anything new. Maybe if he got together with the rest of the band they would be able to come up with something. Billy was beginning to realize that they always worked best when they wrote as a team.

Elijah and Orlando were the lyrical geniuses. Sometimes Billy stared at them in awe, wondering how in the hell they came up with the words they did, knowing he’d never be able to do the same. Elijah didn’t come up with as much stuff as Orlando, but when he did, it was amazing. Dom wrote lyrics to a few things, but his lyrics were usually too deep and metaphorical for what they wanted for the band, which Billy found odd since Elijah was the one obsessed with the emo music.

Billy and Dom wrote most of the music. Dom had an amazing ear for taking a set of lyrics and putting a melody to it. Billy then took the melody and applied everything else to it. And that’s how they worked. If one of them ever decided to drop, the whole band would fall apart. It really was a group effort. Billy had written tons of songs on his own, lyrics, music, and everything, but they were so personal that he rarely shared them. Every song they played had a special touch from each member.

But Billy hated having all this free time and doing nothing. The band was the most important thing in his life, and how could he sit around doing nothing when there was so much to do? He had to write something. The whole band rested on his shoulders, he was sure of that. Not that the others weren’t just as important as Billy, but he felt like the whole thing was his baby, his to take care of. He’d formed it, he’d picked the members, and he led them everywhere. It he strayed for just one second, everything would fall apart. And he couldn’t let that happen.

Taking a deep breath, he started thumbing a song they’d written awhile ago. It was Billy’s favorite and he could play it in his sleep. He closed his eyes, singing the words loudly and ignoring the neighbors beating on the wall. The melody flowed through his fingers, the notes coursed through his blood. He could feel the familiar flutter of excitement in his stomach as the adrenaline overcame him. There was nothing in the world but Billy and his guitar.

After finishing the song, Billy opened his eyes to find Orlando leaning on the doorframe, watching him.

“That was amazing. Everyone is going to fall in love with you and not realize Elijah, Dom, and I exist,” Orlando said, walking into the room and sitting on the coffee table across from Billy. Billy blushed slightly, still not used to any kind of compliment.

“Nah. With you up on stage, I’ll just be background music.” Orlando leaned in and kissed Billy before getting up and grabbing his guitar from the bedroom.

*

“Hey Karl! I need three tequila shots,” Elijah yelled down the bar as he filled a couple of mugs with beer. He handed the beers to the waiting customers, and took the tequila shots from Karl. He gave them to a couple of giggling girls out for one of their twenty-first birthdays and pounded back with them. After a wink, a brush of the birthday girl’s hand, and one of his smiles, the girls walked away leaving him with a nice fat tip.

The bar was packed. He hated nights like these because people got drunk and became assholes, and more than once he had to get one of the bouncers to throw someone out because he was too small to even try. But nights like this made him enough money to pay rent and other random little bills. So Elijah kept smiling his plastic smile and raking in the money.

A couple hours from quitting time, when his feet were killing him, his head hurt from that last shot he shouldn’t have taken, and his patience was wearing thin, he spied Dom walking through the bar. Absently handing a customer his drinks, he watched Dom walk upstairs, obviously going to the office.

Dammit, Elijah thought heatedly, filling another mug of beer. The last thing he wanted was a distraction – and unfortunately Dom was a distraction. Pushing Dom from his mind as a new rush of patrons approached the bar, he didn’t think about him again until about an hour and a half later when he sauntered up.

“Heya,” Dom said, sitting down on a stool and propping his elbows on the counter. Elijah wished for another rush of people, enough to knock Dom off his stool, but it didn’t happen. After what had happened the night before, the party, the kissing, and the unfortunate passing out on Elijah’s part, he had decided to dutifully avoid Dom until he was able to pull himself together. Every time something like that happened, it got Elijah’s hopes up, making him think that something would actually come of him and Dom. But over a cup of steaming coffee while he popped ibuprofen to appease his hangover, he remembered that drunken make out sessions didn’t mean anything. And Elijah definitely hadn’t had time to pull himself together.

“What do you want?” Elijah asked wearily. Dom’s face scrunched up in playful concern.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Dom reached over the bar to punch Elijah in the arm playfully.

“Just tired. Been a busy night.” Elijah took the moment to lean against the bar, something Ian didn’t approve of because it didn’t look appropriate, but Elijah was too worn out to give a fuck about appropriate. He buried his head in his hands, sighing loudly.

“You just need to relax. Want to do something after you get off work?” Dom looked at his watch. “You don’t close tonight, right? So you should be getting out of here in like an hour.” Dom spun around on his stool and surveyed the crowd. “Plus the place looks like it’s calming down a bit.”

“Where do you want to go?” Elijah asked, trying to mentally persuade his mouth to stop moving. But it wasn’t listening to him.

“I don’t know. There’s some dance club a couple blocks away.”

“Okay.” Elijah’s mind was screaming at his mouth for agreeing to go with Dom, but there was little he could do about it.

“Brilliant. I’ll come back in an hour.” Dom slid off the stool and disappeared into the club, leaving Elijah fighting with himself at the bar.

*

Sean stood in front of the mirror, a mountain of clothes on the bed behind him. He’d changed clothes about a hundred times and nothing seemed right. He first tried a standard polo and khakis, but seeing how Viggo was, he thought he’d be too out of place. Then he tried something more Viggo-like, faded jeans, a worn button up, and sandals, but he felt completely ridiculous. After two hours, Sean decided on the faded jeans, the Birkenstocks, and a polo – untucked. He felt comfortable, but a little more toned down than normal. But he was nervous as hell.

He’d barely slept the night before because he could only think about going to the concert and Viggo not remembering who he was or asking why he was there or something similarly horrific. He’d decided not to go at one point, but then a visit with Elijah and Billy made him change that decision quickly. And besides, Sean really liked Viggo and had done nothing but think of him from the moment he left the party the night before.

On the subway, Sean cursed himself for sweating so badly. He continuously wiped his hands on his jeans, and when he caught his reflection in the window, he noticed little beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face. By the time he got to the club, his shirt was damp and his hands felt raw.

He stood outside the club for a few moments in an attempt to dry out. He couldn’t bear to come face to face with Viggo sweaty and flushed. People walked past him inside, many of whom looked like hippie rejects from the seventies. Women sported peasant tops and very small halters leaving little to the imagination, men walked around shirtless or with t-shirts claiming some greater truth about the world. Sean felt more and more out of place with every person who walked through the door. A few gave him curious stares, mainly looking him over as he stood there in his yuppie GAP outfit. It did nothing to curb the sweating. The ultimate rejection came when a shaggy haired, bearded man threw a cigarette on him without a thought. And just his luck, it burned a hole in his polo.

Swearing inwardly, Sean walked into the club. The girl sitting in the box office gave him strange look, but quickly covered it up with a fake smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah,” Sean fumbled, nervously playing with the hem of his newly burnt shirt. “There should be a backstage pass for me.”

“Really?” the girl said with the patience of someone who’d had too many people pretend to have backstage or press passes. “And what name would that be under?”

“Uh, Sean Astin.” She doubtfully searched her list of names, and Sean waited, biting his lip the entire time. He just knew that Viggo had forgotten about him and he would look like a freak and have to go home and just feel like a complete ass.

“Here you go, Mr. Astin.” She handed him a sticker with the word “backstage” written across it. “The door is over there.” The girl pointed to a door to the left of the stage with a very bored security guard sitting beside it.

Sean thanked the girl and waded through the crowd, bombarded with the smell of marijuana and beer. He turned his nose up almost immediately, looking around in disdain at the people waiting for Viggo’s show. He felt extremely out of his element.

The security guard barely looked at him when he walked by. Sean opened the door, looking around apprehensively. He had absolutely no clue where he was going or what he was doing really. There were people standing around in the hallway, so he walked up timidly to one.

“Where’s Viggo’s dressing room?” Sean asked a man with more piercings than he’s ever seen, realizing for the first time he had no idea what Viggo’s last name was.

“Over there.” Sean walked over to the closed door and knocked softly. Receiving no answer, he knocked louder, losing his balance when Viggo opened the door.

“Sean!” Viggo exclaimed. His face broke into a big grin, and he moved aside so Sean could walk inside the tiny dressing room. “I was wondering if you were going to come.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t find anything to wear,” Sean said candidly. Viggo chuckled, giving Sean the once over.

“Look fine to me, except you have a hole in your shirt.”

“Oh yeah.” Sean looked down and blushed. “Some guy outside threw a cigarette on me.”

“Bastard. These assholes who come to the concerts think they are so cool and better than everyone else. Don’t worry about them. You’re here as my special guest.” Viggo smiled at Sean before walking around the room, putting on shoes and combing his hair. “Do you want a beer or anything? You can push that shit onto the floor and sit in the chair.”

Sean picked up a pile of papers and clothes and laid them carefully on the floor. He watched as Viggo messed with his hair, first tying it back into a ponytail then pulling it back down so it brushed his shoulders.

“Which way, Sean? Down or up?” Viggo turned, leaning back against the counter. Sean tried to ignore how amazingly sexy Viggo looked stretched out like that.

“Down, definitely.”

“Thanks. I knew you were here for a reason.” Viggo glanced back in the mirror and then looked around the room, searching for something. “Where is my fucking guitar?”

“This it?” Sean asked, lifting up an acoustic guitar from beside his chair.

“Thanks so much.” Viggo reached forward and kissed Sean quickly on the lips as he grabbed the guitar. “Okay. I go on in like ten minutes. The best place for you to sit is up on the balcony, right side. It’s kinda secluded, you can see everything great, and I’ll know you’re up there.”

“Okay.” Sean stood up and faced Viggo awkwardly.

“Hey, Sean,” Viggo said softly. “I’m really glad you came. I was afraid you wouldn’t.” Then Viggo did something Sean was not expecting. He leaned towards him and kissed him, not the quick peck of the lips you’d give your grandmother like he gave him two minutes ago. No, this was the kind of kiss that left you breathless with a hard-on and wanting more. Viggo’s free hand sneaked around Sean’s body and pulled him closer, and his tongue slipped past his lips and slid easily and freely inside Sean’s wanting mouth. And when Viggo pulled away, Sean whimpered, which made Viggo smile.

“You’ll be here after the show, right?” Viggo asked, not letting go of Sean yet. Sean could feel his breath against his face, see the flecks of color in his eyes, feel the stubble on his chin as it brushed against his skin.

“Yeah,” Sean said breathlessly, refraining from pulling Viggo into another mind-blowing kiss. But Viggo must have been a mind reader, because at that moment he kissed Sean again. Sean grabbed hold of his shirt, curling his fingers into the soft fabric and pulling Viggo closer.

Viggo trailed kisses along Sean’s cheek and whispered in his ear, “I’ll see you after the show.” Sean almost had to pry his fingers off of his shirt, but he left the warmth of Viggo’s body and wandered dazedly to the balcony, still thinking it was too good to be true.

*

“You play and I’ll stand behind you. I’ll be like your muse,” Orlando said, getting up from the couch and walking around behind Billy.

“Orlando, this is stupid.”

“No, it’s not! Trust me. Now pick up your guitar and play, dammit!”

“Aye.” Billy picked up his guitar and strummed a few notes, trying desperately to come up with something new. Orlando watched from behind, eyes focusing on the way the muscles in Billy’s neck and shoulders tensed and moved as he played so skillfully. Without thinking, Orlando leaned down and trailed his tongue along the shell of Billy’s ear.

“Ooh,” Billy said, halting mid-song. His hand reached behind him, grabbing at the curly tendrils of Orlando’s hair. “Orli…”

Orlando’s mouth traveled down below his ear, nipping playfully at Billy’s neck. He knew he shouldn’t be distracting Billy from his practicing, but he just couldn’t help himself. Billy was too sexy when he played. Cupping Billy’s cheek with his hand, he turned Billy’s face towards his own and captured his lips, running his tongue along the inside of Billy’s lower lip. Billy opened his mouth wider and Orlando slipped his tongue inside. Orlando leaned as far down as he could without completely falling over the couch. He just wanted to crawl over onto Billy and melt inside him. He pulled away slightly, placing kisses all over Billy’s face.

“I love you,” he whispered against Billy’s skin. Billy tightened his grip in Orlando’s hair.

“I know.”

Orlando continued kissing Billy, waiting desperately for similar words to be spoken back. But they never came. Billy moved his tongue all around inside Orlando’s mouth, but never attempted to say anything. Wounded, Orlando pulled away suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Billy asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

“I know? I know? What kind of answer is that, Billy?” Orlando stood behind the couch, hands shaking. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, trying to be strong. He wouldn’t cry; he would be angry. But he just felt like he was going to die.

“Fuck, Orli, don’t start this.” Billy dropped his head into his hands. “I know you love me. You told me last night, I see it on your face every time you look at me. You know how I feel, but this can’t happen now.”

“What can’t?”

“This,” Billy said, lifting his head and motioning between the two of them. “Us. It can’t happen right now.”

“Why not?” Orlando stood watching Billy as he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“Dammit, Orlando! Because of the band. We’ve got to stay focused. We can’t just start fucking around and fall in love and become some happy couple with stars in our eyes. The music’s the most important thing.”

“The music? What was this, then? Think you can have your cake and eat it to? Is that it, Billy?” Orlando shouted. Their neighbor beat on the wall, yelling for them to quiet down. “Shut the fuck up you motherfucking old hag!” Orlando yelled, face turning red.

“Orlando, please, don’t do this. I need you to understand. This is what I’ve always dreamed about. I can’t let my personal life get involved.”

“Fuck you. You’re not the only one this affects.” Billy stood up and walked towards him, but Orlando stepped away. “No, Billy. Don’t even try.”

“Don’t do this. Why can’t things stay like they were?” Billy asked, dropping his arms to his side.

“Because I’m sick of lying around every night and getting no where. I want you, Billy. I fucking need you. I’m getting tired of jacking off every goddamn night thinking of you lying in the next room.”

“This is about sex?”

“Yes. No. Partially,” Orlando said, getting confused. “I’m a fucking male. I can only go so long without going crazy.”

“If you loved me, this wouldn’t matter,” Billy countered.

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me, Billy Boyd. I do love you. But I want more than whatever the fuck we have. Sleeping together every night, but not really being together. Not dating anyone else, but not dating each other. I just want something. Anything.” Orlando’s shoulders slumped as he leaned against the wall. Billy hesitated before moving towards him.

“We have something, but I’m not keeping you from dating other people. You can do what you like.” Billy stroked Orlando’s cheek, and Orlando looked up at him, his brown eyes sad.

“I don’t want anyone but you. Don’t you see that, you thick prat?”

“And can’t you see that I have to keep this bloody band together!” Billy shouted, dropping his hand from Orlando’s face. Orlando stared at him open-mouthed. “Someone has got to keep it together or we’re going to fall apart! And none of you can do it!”

“Do you think we don’t give a damn about this fucking band? Dom and I moved to another goddamn continent because we believed in you and this band! Don’t fucking think you’re the only one who cares.” Orlando stomped away, and Billy followed.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you. I’m sick of this argument. Forget I ever fucking said anything. I don’t love you.” Orlando went into the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it behind him.

“Fuck it, Orli! Open the goddamn door!” Billy yelled, beating on the door. Orlando ignored him. Billy finally gave up and pouted on the couch, watching television and eyeing the bathroom every five minutes. After a couple of hours, Billy’d had enough and decided to go to bed. As he was getting undressed, he heard the door open. He padded out into the living room wearing nothing but boxers and his socks to find Orlando moving blankets around on the couch.

“Coming to bed?” he asked, scratching his head nervously.

“No. I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Orlando, grow up. Come to bed,” Billy said impatiently.

“I’m sleeping here. Good night.” Orlando lay down and rolled over, leaving Billy facing his back.

“Fine. I don’t bloody care!” Billy stomped back to his room, slamming the door so hard he knocked a picture off the wall in the hallway.

He crawled onto the mattress, trying desperately to get comfortable. He tossed and turned, never finding the right spot. The bed was too empty. He should have been delighted to have the small mattress to himself for the night, but everything was wrong. It had been so long since he’d fallen asleep without another body lying beside, the soothing breathing lulling him into slumber, and the warm skin keeping him cozy that without it, he couldn’t sleep.

He finally fell asleep, cold and uncomfortable. And for the first night since moving to America, Billy and Orlando didn’t sleep together.

*

Elijah walked out from behind the bar. He was dirty, tired, and wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep. But stupid boy, he’d agreed to go out with Dom, and he was regretting it now.

“Don’t look so happy to be off work,” Dom joked, startling Elijah as he came up behind him. Elijah couldn’t muster the energy to smile or flick him off. Dom threw his arm casually around Elijah, and Elijah leaned into the embrace.

“I’m so tired,” he whined.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re coming out with me tonight.” Dom dropped his arm and hurried out of the bar, Elijah trudging after. A couple of blocks away, they entered a loud dance club. Dom talked and joked with a couple bouncers he knew, getting them in without having to pay or anyone checking Elijah’s ID.

The lights were furiously blinking an array of blue, green, and red, casting colorful shadows over the dance floor. People were hanging all over each other, groping and kissing and touching, and a cloud of cigarette and pot smoke hung lightly in the air.

“Want a beer or something?” Dom yelled over the music. Elijah almost didn’t hear it through the pounding of his brain inside his skull. The whole room felt like it was shaking.

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Dom disappeared into the mass at the bar, leaving Elijah alone on the edge of the dance floor. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to dance, but when a cute, tall blonde guy asked him to, he couldn’t stop himself from saying yes.

In a trance induced by his fatigue and the music, Elijah danced. He didn’t care that the nameless man’s fingers breezed through his hair, hands gripped at his ass, a hand cupped his crotch, or the man’s tongue dipped inside his ear. Elijah just leaned against him, trying desperately to stay up on his two legs, and let him do whatever he wanted to him. When the man whispered into his ear that he wanted to go outside, Elijah looked up and glanced around the club, searching for Dom. Dom was in the middle of the floor, draped all around some guy, tongue stuck far down his throat. Elijah felt the familiar tinge of jealousy, knowing he was in a similar position the night before, and hurt because Dom wasn’t with him.

Elijah followed the man through the crowd, clutching his large hand in his own sweaty one, bumping into various people who took the opportunity to grope him or kiss him as he walked by. He was disturbed by this, felt suffocated by the amount of people around him in addition to Dom and his boy of the night who stole all of Elijah’s oxygen. The moment he stumbled out of the back door, he gasped desperately for air.

No chance to breathe again before he was pushed roughly against the brick wall, his hands scraping against the coarse surface. He stifled his moans as his jeans and boxers were yanked to his knees, leaving him exposed and hard as the anonymous man grabbed Elijah’s cock and fumbled behind with his own fly.

Elijah liked it better this way – the anonymity of a faceless lover, no one he had to answer to in the morning, call on a daily basis, pretend to care for. Someone that could get him off quickly while he silently called out Dom’s name. He gasped as he felt two slippery fingers pushed deeply inside him. Clawing at the wall, he tasted blood as he bit his lip from making any noise because he knew these guys hated it when he made noise. The man took his hand away from Elijah’s cock and Elijah replaced it with his own.

“Here, open this,” he growled, dangling a condom in front of Elijah’s face. Elijah grasped it in his shaking hands and ripped the shiny plastic apart. The man took it and rolled it onto himself, and without warning, thrust into Elijah. Elijah couldn’t stop the small scream that escaped his lips.

After a few painful moments, Elijah felt himself relax and he leaned his head against the wall, staring down the dark, sleazy back alley as the man behind him pounded and grunted. He grabbed his cock, aching to be touched, and started rubbing quickly. He knew the man behind him wouldn’t last long, and he was damned if he was going to be left unsatisfied.

The door to the club opened, startling Elijah. He stiffened, afraid of being caught fucking.

“Relax,” the man purred in his ear. “It’s nobody except some punk.” The man replaced the words in Elijah’s ear with his tongue.

Elijah turned his head and looked at the door, staring straight into the eyes of Dom. He felt all the blood in his face drain, and he suddenly felt extremely dirty. He wanted to cover himself and frantically clean himself off. Dom just stood there and stared as the blonde man thrust deeply and Elijah stared back stroking his cock. Hurriedly, Dom turned and went back into the club, and Elijah closed his eyes, that image burned into his brain, and pumped harder and quicker, finally coming all over the wall in front of him.

He braced himself as his partner finished, ignoring the uncomfortable sensations before he came after what felt like to Elijah five hours. The man pulled out of him, threw the used condom on the ground beside Elijah’s feet, and went back into the club without a word. Elijah finally pulled his pants up and buttoned them, walking wearily back into the club.

He found Dom dancing with a different guy, tongue in the same position as before. Sitting down at the bar, he ordered a water and sat with his head on his arms, jumping like he’d been shot when he felt a hand on his back.

“Ready to go?” Dom asked, softer than he expected. Elijah didn’t want to see Dom. Elijah didn’t want to be near Dom. Elijah didn’t deserve to have Dom speak to him. He felt awful. And it was stupid really. They both fucked random people often. Why was this any different? But Elijah knew why. Dom had never stood there and watched him being vandalized like he did tonight. Elijah hated it, because he loved Dom and didn’t want him to see that. But the damage was done. Maybe it would help Elijah get over Dom. Every little bit helps.

“Yeah.” Elijah slid off the stool and trailed behind Dom out of the club and down the street. He watched his feet as they walked, watched as they stepped over gum and broken glass and discarded paper. He avoided stepping on the sidewalk cracks, an adolescent superstition coming out of him. He didn’t look up until he ran smack into a warm body. That body was Dom.

“I didn’t think you were paying attention to where you were going,” Dom said, not moving away from Elijah. They were so close, knees brushing against each other, arms touching in various places.

“I’m sorry,” was all Elijah could say. Dom moved his arms towards Elijah, but thought better of it and pulled it away. He turned and kept walking.

“Who was the guy?” Dom asked after a few minutes.

“Don’t know. Who was yours?”

“Same answer. Yours was cute. I wish I’d found him first.”

“Me too.” Elijah avoided Dom’s gaze when he turned around and stared at him. He looked everywhere but at Dom. At the streetlights, at the sidewalk, the passing cars, but never at Dom. He was still dirty.

In the shower later, Elijah scrubbed himself as hard as he could, leaving his skin a bright pink color. It hurt slightly to touch, but he felt cleansed of everything from the night. He stumbled to his bed, wanting to sleep for weeks, and fell unexpectantly onto another body.

“What the fuck?” he yelled, then cursed himself because Billy was sleeping in the other bed.

“Sorry, Lij,” Dom’s sleepy voice said. Elijah wanted to shoot himself then and there. After everything that had happened that night, Dom was in his bed.

“Why in the hell are you in my bed?” Elijah whispered, crawling underneath the covers and stealing them back from where they were twisted around Dom’s body.

“Orli and Billy had a fight. Orli’s on the couch. This was the only other place to sleep.”

“Fine just don’t steal the covers,” Elijah said, turning his back towards Dom. Dom moved around as he tried to get situated, annoying Elijah immensely. He finally rolled over and threw his arm around Elijah’s waist.

“Sorry, I can’t get comfortable any other way. The mattress is too small.”

“Fine. Just go to sleep.” Elijah tried to calm his racing heartbeat because he didn’t want Dom to know what having his arm around his waist was doing to him. He settled further into the bed, consequently settling closer against Dom, before falling asleep.

*

Sean leaned against the edge of the balcony while Viggo played. A couple of times he thought Viggo looked up in his direction and smiled or winked, but decided it was only tricks of the stage lights. It amazed him how wonderful Viggo was, sitting on stage with only a stool, guitar, and piano. The audience was entranced, as was Sean. Viggo’s words floated over him, sending shivers down his spine and goose bumps all over his skin. Viggo was beautiful – full of passion, life, and love. And Sean found himself wondering why in the hell he wanted anything to do with him. But he also felt some sort of rush knowing that he was the one Viggo was kissing before the show and the one he’d hopefully be kissing afterwards. He glanced around at everyone, women and men both lusting after Viggo, and wanted to jump and shout that it was him, Sean Astin, copy bitch supreme, that Viggo was interested in and they all just wished they were him. But instead he buried his face deeper into his arms and smiled.

After the show, Sean timidly pushed past the lines of fans standing by the backstage door waiting for a glimpse of Viggo or a passing autograph or two. A couple people yelled at him for breaking through and then yelled at the security guard for letting him past. Sean was really thankful he wasn’t the security guard.

Viggo was inside his dressing room, towel around his neck, as he talked to a few people Sean didn’t recognize. He hung back outside the door, not wanting to disturb whatever meeting was going on.

“Sean! Don’t lurk outside the room. Get your ass in here,” Viggo shouted happily. Sean felt his face burning and knew he had to be the color of the Coke can lying near his feet. Embarrassed, he entered the room, slinking over into a corner chair. After a few minutes, the strangers left the room without a glance in Sean’s direction.

“Managers and other bullshit,” Viggo said, handing Sean a beer. “Oh damn. I forgot. You’re a manager.”

“It’s okay. I’m the worst manager ever. I just basically act as a figurehead. The guys do most of the stuff. I sign things and tell them that they’re making the right decision.”

“You’ll catch on to everything. All of you are new at this right?”

“Well, they’ve been playing for awhile, but the whole record business thing is new. They start recording their first single next week.”

“That’s great. I need to come hear them play.”

“We’re playing a gig in a few weeks. I’ll get you some tickets.”

“Thanks.” They sat in silence a few minutes, Sean picking nervously at the label on his beer bottle and Viggo studying him carefully. Sean stopped messing with the damp paper when Viggo sat down beside him. “Sean, I have to go out and sign a few autographs and talk to a few fans. Come out with me then come back to my apartment for a drink.” It wasn’t a question – it was a quiet demand. Sean knew even if he wanted to, he couldn’t have said no, but he admitted to himself there was no way in hell he would have said no.

After strange glances from fans wondering who he was as Viggo signed autographs and a short taxi ride to the complex, Sean found himself pressed against the front door of the apartment. Viggo’s mouth was crushed against his own, and he found it hard to breath but at that moment breathing wasn’t a priority. He couldn’t think straight because it had been so long since anyone had touched him like that – so long since someone ran their hands through his hair and placed kisses along his jaw and pressed up against his body. It was almost a novel experience, feeling and accepting and submitting to the hands of another. And Viggo was perfect. Knew exactly where to place his hands and when to stroke his skin. Sean was slowly losing it.

He didn’t remember Viggo undressing him, or remember undressing Viggo. Didn’t recall tripping over Viggo’s feet as he pushed him through the apartment, laughing and kissing and exploring. Not sure when his back fell against the soft blankets of Viggo’s bed. But as he lay under Viggo while Viggo’s hands touched every part of him, he was completely aware of everything.

“Sean?” Viggo asked softly, propping himself up on his elbows and brushing a stray hair out of Sean’s eyes. “Are you okay with this?”

“Oh god yes,” Sean answered quickly. “Please don’t stop.”

Viggo leaned down and kissed him before rolling off the bed and fumbling in a drawer for the lube. Sean lay naked and self-conscious on the bed, but pushed it to the back of his mind as he stared at the nude Viggo strutting across the room.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sean gasped as Viggo draped himself back over him. Viggo smiled down at him, running his hand down Sean’s sweaty chest.

“So are you. So much more than beautiful.” And Viggo captured Sean’s mouth again, while lower he worked his fingers around slowly before slipping deep inside. Sean clawed at Viggo’s shoulders, suppressing his moans until he heard sounds floating from inside Viggo’s chest. Then he threw his head back and opened his mouth as sounds he’d never thought he’d ever make cascaded from his lips. He didn’t feel like he had to pretend to be something he wasn’t – he was simply Sean, something he’d never felt with any other lover. Viggo wasn’t expecting anything he couldn’t give. He could just feel and be felt. Sean clutched Viggo closer as he slid in and out of him. He felt like he was going to tear apart at the seams. Nothing had ever made him feel like this before, and he just wanted to crawl inside Viggo and stay forever.

Squeezing his eyes tight, he came with a small scream and didn’t feel embarrassed for coming first or having Viggo still pulsing deep inside him. It was nice to still be touched, loved. Viggo came shortly after, and Sean rolled on top of him, placing kisses all over his damp body. Viggo laced his fingers in the small of Sean’s back as Sean nuzzled into his neck.

“That was,” Sean started, but found he couldn’t think of any words to describe it. His brows creased in concentration as he tried to think of something.

“Yeah, it was,” Viggo finished, not needing any explanation. It just was.

~Fin  



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